Memoirs of a Steel Legionaire
by Colonel-Commissar2468
Summary: My first fanfic, about a Battle on a Forge/Hive World. Rated T, to be cautious.
1. Prologue

**A/N This is my first fanfiction, so please be nice. Please review. What should I do? Should I continue? What does it need? Please note I planned this out on a boring afternoon activity session at school, so it might be lacking a bit. **

**P.S Look out for quotes!**

The soft hum of the warship's engines resonated through the ship. The dim lights of the night cycle provided Trooper Oliver Steele with a view of his friends.

To his left, his best friend George Helghast snored loudly.

"For a small guy," thought Oliver, "He sure can snore!" To his right, lay the shapely figure of his other best friend, Isabelle Irone.

Oliver returned his gaze to the bunk above, and smiled as sleep claimed him.

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><p><em>16 Years Previously<em>

_A five-year-old Oliver Steele sat nervously in the corner. It was his first day at the pre-scholem, and everybody else seemed to have a friend. Suddenly, a tearful boy, clutching his mother came in. The teacher pointed Oliver out to the boy, and he came over._

_"Do you like Space Wars?" Oliver asked the boy._

_"Yeah!" he replied. "I'm George," he said, "George Helghast."_

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><p><em>The Present<em>

Oliver turned over in his bunk, happy at his dreams of home.

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><p><em>12 Years Previously<em>

_"Ha ha!" sneered Boris Gudten, the school bully. George and Oliver, both nine, cowered before him and his cronies, George sporting a bloody nose._

_"Leave them alone!" cried a girl's voice. "Go away!" She said._

_"C'mon," grumbled Boris "Let's go see if we can nick some of the teachers lho-sticks."_

_"Thankyou," said Oliver._

_"Don't mention it," said the girl "I'm Isabelle Irone."_

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><p><em>The Present<em>

The thoughts of the meeting of him and his two friends were some of the happiest of Oliver's life, and his sleeping form grinned at them.

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><p><em>8 Years Previously<em>

_"Well," said a thirteen-year-old Oliver, "I guess this is goodbye."_

_"Yeah." gulped George-he had a lump in his throat._

_"It's been great guys," said Isabelle, "But I guess we have to say it-goodbye."_

_"We're off to senior school," said George "Hey," he asked, "Do you have a piece of paper?"_

_"What for?" asked Oliver._

_"For your holo-phone numbers!" he replied. "So we can keep in contact," he explained._

_"Yeah," said Isabelle "See you guys, it's been great."_

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><p><em>The Present<em>

Even in his sleep, Oliver remembered it. The years of waiting, the days he had spent with only the memories. Sure, he'd had other friends, but they just hadn't been the same.

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><p><em>3 Years Previously<em>

_An eighteen-year-old Oliver looked nervously around at the universitariat building. He could see his fellow students talking around. He remembered how he'd felt on his first day of pre-scholem – he felt the same now. Then, he saw something else. It was a woman, pointing him out to a man. Their faces lit up. They ran towards him._

_"Issie!" gasped Oliver, incredulously, as she hugged him "George! It's really you."_

_"We met up yesterday in the dorms," explained George, "Me and Issie are neighbours – we're in Aquila house."_

_"Me too!" exclaimed Oliver "We've got a lot of catching up to do," he said, as they approached the dormitory._

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><p><em>The Present<em>

Even though these memories were happy, they foreshadowed something much worse, as dream, turned to nightmare.

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><p><em>Two Years Previously<em>

_"All students, assemble in the main square in fifteen minutes. This is not a drill." The incessant voice from the speakers woke Oliver from his sleep. The words this is not a drill concerned him. What was happening?_

_It was dark outside, as Oliver switched on the small holo-vision in his room. The news came on. The presenter came on with a news flash._

_"This is Mark Durak with Hive Live, you're source of news in Hades Hive. Our top story: Planetary Invasion! We go live to Governor Herman von Strab's speech after these shocking images are revealed." Oliver watched, in shock, as the camera showed an asteroid out in the ash wastes, with greenskins pouring from it. There was a knock on the door. When Oliver opened it, George and Isabelle were outside._

_"What's with the 3am wake-up call?" asked George._

_"The holo-vision can answer that," replied Oliver, leading them in. As they watched, the Governor spoke. He reassured them of their safety, and assured them that he had the situation under control. Finally, he assured the populace that Commissar Sebastian Yarrick, who had tried to spread dissent by calling for help, had been sent out of the way – to Hades Hive. Finally, he called for the people to support the Planetary Defence Force, and for the Universities to offer up some of their best as a tithe of soldiers._

_In the grounds, a PDF mobile armoury Chimera drove up, and its crew began to unload their cargo: crates of las-guns and power packs._

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><p><em>The Present<em>

Oliver remembered the crash course in combat that he and his friends had received; the University's fittest, smartest students had been conscripted, and taught how to shoot in the weeks after the first landing. Three months after first contact, sentries on the walls of Hades Hive had spotted a mass of green coming from the ash wastes – they had come.

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><p><em>One Year Previously<em>

_Oliver, George and Isabelle were crouched behind the burnt-out wreck of a mobile-armoury Chimera. Oliver recognised it the registration as the vehicle that had supplied his universitariat with weapons. It was empty. The turret weapon had run out of ammunition long ago, and all that was inside were two krak grenades and a knife. Everything else was broken or looted by needy troops._

_"The Orks are getting closer," said George, who was on sentry duty, "So you might want to start praying for a miracle. The only live guardsmen they could see were an autocannon team further down the street._

_"I don't want to die," whispered Isabelle._

_"Neither do I," replied Oliver, "But there's always hope. When I was a child, my mum told me a tale. It was about a group of Guardsmen, who always remained true to the Emperor, and when they were trapped, and surrounded by the enemies of man, he sent his angels to save them."_

_"Do you think it's true?" she replied._

_"There's always hope," he said, "And there's already one angel here," he smirked._

_"Stop talking," she replied, and pulled him into a kiss. A round ricocheted off of the tank and George ducked down._

_"Alright love-birds," he said, priming his last power cell, as Oliver and Isabelle picked up their weapons,_

_"FOR THE EMPEROR!" They cheered as they leaped up, firing on full auto. A dozen Orks were cut down, but just as the leading monster was about to cut them down, its head exploded. Looking back, they saw ten Space Marine Terminators marching down the street, storm bolters and assault cannons firing into the packed mass of greenskins. Hundreds were cut down. One of the Terminators stopped, looked at them, and then spoke:_

_"Come with me if you want to live."_

_Later that day, Oliver found Isabelle in the makeshift mess tent._

_"So," he said, "Where were we?"_

_"No," she replied."_

_"No?"_

_"Look, that was the no way out adrenaline talking. It was nothing." And with that, she left him._

_"Soldiers of the Imperium," boomed Commissar Yarrick. "Men of Armageddon, you are the finest the Imperial Guard has to offer. The Armageddon Twelfth Steel Legion you are the finest the Imperial Guard has to offer, even more so than you're fellow Steel Legion regiments." The men and women of the newly-christened Armageddon Twelfth Steel Legion knew that Yarrick would give the same speech to a hundred other regiments, but they still believed it: they were the best, of the best._

* * *

><p><em>The Present<em>

Oliver was awakened by the klaxons that sounded to indicate the start of the day cycle. He looked at his friends once more, and allowed himself a rare luxury for a man of Armageddon: he smiled. Life was good.

**A/N So, what do you think? R/R, and I'll listen.**


	2. Behind Enemy Lines

**A/N so here it is folks, Chapter 2! I've decided to downplay the romance of this – at least until a later chapter. **

**Oh, and I forgot this last time: Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 – if I did, it would be a much cheaper hobby!**

_"Best of the Best"_

Motto of the 12th Armageddon

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993949.M41

07.55 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Lunar Class Cruiser "Heart of Gold" + +

+ + Training Bay 13 + +

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"Delta Company, at arms," yelled the stern voice of the third company commander Captain Yakub, "This is your final test. Within a week, you will make planetfall. I have not been given authorisation to tell you this location, but suffice to say, this test has been designed to prepare you. Colonel Blacke will fill you in on the details," and with that, he stepped aside.

"Men," said Colonel Blacke "Today, you will face the Tau in a trench environment. The Tau focus on their ranged weapons skills, as they are physically weak and no challenge in close combat. This is why the cowards hire Kroot mercenaries to do this dirty work for them. You will move through the trenches to capture point 15, which is one hundred meters behind their positions. You will be assisted by a squad regimental stormtroopers." As he spoke, the terrain had changed on his cues, the training bay's tiles changing height to a fifteen-meter high hill and a trench network. In addition, the training room's holo-projectors were generating a three-dimensional image of a Tau hunter cadre.

"Very impressive," thought Private First Class Oliver Steele, "I can see at least a dozen XV-8 battlesuits – better watch out for their missile racks – and, uh-oh, those are Hammerheads – those burst cannons are a nasty piece of work," but all that came out of his mouth, after a long experience of dealing with his less than book-learned friends, was "Watch out for the chain guns."

"Well done genius," laughed Private George Helghast, one of his best friends, "I'll remember that – when I chuck a krak grenade inside it!"

"Hey," replied Private Isabelle Irone "He's just trying to keep you alive. That's live ammo they're using."

"Ready?" boomed a voice over the vox speakers, coming from the glass-fronted observation deck.

"Sir, Yes Sir!" bellowed back the guardsmen.

"Engage combat program," said the colonel. And with that, the Tau opened fire.

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"Well, this is a fine mess you've got us into," said Stormtrooper Harzan Krass, to his commanding officer, Sergeant Jacob Bebboth.

"Hey," replied Jacob, "How was I to know that they had advanced this far – whose stupid idea _was_ it to give the Tau stealth-suits?" as the stormtrooper squad lay there however, they were unaware that they were being watched.

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"Looks like it's up to the poor bloody infantry to save the day again," groaned Oliver. He and his five-man fireteam were on their squad's right flank. Specialist Daniel Memmoz, the squad's heavy weapons trooper, was changing his plasma gun's fuel cell, Issie and George were _attempting _to snipe and Trooper Jack Drak was in cover.

"What's the plan boss?" asked Dan, his weapon charged.

"Alright, gather round," Ollie told the others, "On my mark, we each lob two grenades at the Tau. Then, Jack and George will provide cover fire while Dan, Issie and I flank them: we meet in the middle – when the Tau are dead!" The five-man team scattered to their positions.

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Jacob and his men hunkered down. Their cover was being chewed away by excessive fire from pulse-rifles and railguns. Suddenly, ten black orbs looped through the sky in front of them, falling within the Tau lines. And then they exploded. Blue skinned body parts, bits of weapon and clumps of earth dropped all around them.

"What in the name of the holy Emperor was that?" asked Jacob, but none of his men replied. Then, suddenly, three soldiers charged down the slope, firing from the hip. Their shots, combined with the las and plasma fire from the top of the slope, were inflicting casualties on the Tau, but not enough – as Jacob watched, one of them was hit and fell.

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As Dan rushed down the hill with the others, he knew they would not make it. There were simply too many of the aliens firing on them. Suddenly, he had a eureka moment – without any prompting, he cried out as if hit and threw himself to the ground.

"Dan, are you hit?" Oliver's voice crackled with the micro-bead headset's distortion.

"No, I'm playing dead," said Dan "Get to shelter, I'll cover you."

"Roger that," replied Oliver. The Tau, elated by their success in taking one of the guardsmen down, began to over-extend themselves. Pulse-fire streaked past Ollie and Issie as they leaned out to get in better shots: and extend themselves into Dan's sights. A dozen were cut down by the fully automatic las-fire, and the rest were too busy cowering to realise what was happening: Ollie and Issie crept into the trench, to find eighteen Fire Warriors cowering in their trench.

"Fix bayonets," said Ollie. They leaped in. Oliver's first strike smashed through the helmet of a Fire warrior, showering blood and brain tissue everywhere. Issie's was a strike with the stock of her weapon that sent the frail Tau flying into one of its squad mate's. As the Tau were killed, they fizzled out, their holograms fading as they were damaged. In a whirlwind of fury, the two guardsmen left a sanguineous trail of death and destruction in the trench. Issie swung her rifle, breaking a Tau's spine and hurling it to the floor. She turned, saw the raised rifle, practically burning her nose, and closed her eyes. The sound of a hellgun shot surprised her, her eyes snapped open, and the Tau fell to the ground. Behind it, stood a stormtrooper sergeant with hell-pistol raised. She smiled.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," replied the stormtrooper, holstering his side arm and pulling off his helmet. He extended his hand.

"Sergeant Jacob Bebboth, CO, Stormtrooper squad." Issie shook his hand.

"Private Isabelle Irone, first squad, second platoon, fourth company. Pleased to meet you." At that moment, Ollie and Dan appeared, closely followed by George and Jack.

"Alpha-1, what's your status?" asked Ollie. The members of his team all checked off as un-injured. "Good," he said, "Sergeant," he addressed Jacob, "You're senior to me. What are your orders?"

"We need to move onwards," he said, "If we move through these trenches, we might come out in their rear, and that can only be a good thing."

"Sir, sir!" panted another stormtrooper, who appeared at the head of eight others, "The Tau have been driven back. We need orders."

"Corporal Chapp, take four men, move right to clear out the positions over there. The rest, with me."

"Yes sir!" barked Ollie's men, and the stormtroopers and they followed the sergeant up the trench.

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Quietly, they made their way behind the enemy lines. Suddenly, a Hammerhead gunship glided into position next to them.

"Quick," Jacob whispered to one of his men, give me a melta bomb. As one of the troopers handed him the canister, George grinned.

"May I?" he asked.

"With pleasure," replied Jacob. George picked up the anti-tank bomb, pulled out the arming plunger and threw it onto the tank, where its magnetic clamps latched on with a loud clang. A Tau driver poked his head out of the hatch to see what was happening, and his head was blown off as the shaped charge blew off the side of the tank. George whooped with pleasure.

"That's what I'm talking about!" he grinned.

"Shush!" said Issie, "We're behind enemy lines. What if they hear us?"

"I think that that explosion probably would have alerted them more than George enjoying himself," said Ollie.

"You're right about that!" said one of the stormtroopers.

"Oh gak," swore Ollie, as three Tau Devilfish transports each unloaded their cargoes of troops – two Fire Warrior squads and one Kroot squad – and directed them towards the Steel Legionnaires.

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"Go, go, go!" shouted Oliver, forgetting that Jacob was in charge, "Get to cover! There's a bunker over there, get to its machine gun!" The five guardsmen and five stormtroopers sprinted for cover, but one stormtrooper was hit by a railgun blast. The blast killed him easily. Shaken, the nine remaining guardsmen practically threw themselves through the bunker's hatch.

"Get that burst cannon round here!" yelled Oliver, "With it's rate of fire, it's the only thing that'll kill those Tau in time!" Two stormtroopers, their upper body strength enhanced by their carapace armour, lugged the heavy weapon across the bunker to the gun-slit facing the Tau. George hunched down behind the weapon, and readied it.

"Alright, let's kick some blue-skinned butts!" The Tau had advanced in a formation of the Kroot advancing first to get in close quarters while the Fire Warriors, and their gun drones, provided cover fire. This meant that the Kroot were first to fall, sliced apart by the burst cannon's fire. Hundreds of high explosive, armour-piercing rounds turned the Kroot's steady advance into a pile of blood-soaked body parts. The supporting Fire Warriors fared little better, their disciplined firing line destroyed by the burst cannon's fire. Yet more Devilfish were approaching, accompanied by a trio of Hammerhead gunships.

"Oh, we have so had it this time!" said Jacob.

"No," said Ollie, "We can still win this," But even as he said it, the conviction drained from his voice.

"Look!" cried Issie, "Reinforcements!" And she was right. The whole of fourth company was streaming forward with bayonets fixed. Anti-tank support weapons were firing as the charge hit home. A bobbing, weaving, refractor field dome indicated the position of Captain Karl Yakub. Cheering, Ollie, Jacob and their men streamed out of the bunker and into the Tau, lasguns firing and bayonets hacking. Like a whirlwind, they cut through the Fire Warriors and reached their company commander.

"Glad to have you with us," said the Captain, "You disappeared for a quarter of an hour ago. Kratzthought you had run to the rear," _Kratz_. The name made Ollie wince – fourth company's commissar was an imposing figure at the best of times: and terrifying at the worst.

"We found a backdoor into the Tau positions, and exploited it sir," Explained Oliver.

"So the three dead squads and the burnt-out Hammerhead are yours?" Smirked the Captain.

"Yes sir!" George grinned with obvious relish.

"Lookout!" yelled Yakub's bodyguard, as a railgun shell flew over, and impacted. Everything happened in less than three seconds, but it felt like three minutes to Oliver. Yakub crouched instinctively; the railgun round flew through his refrector field, and out the other side. The solid lump of magnetized metal smashed Issie off her feet and carried her a full fifteen metres before she fell, sliding off of the shell.

"No!" screamed George and Ollie, practically simultaneously. Oliver grabbed a medi-kit off of the back of a fallen Medic and rushed to Issie's side, George close behind. Ollie set down the kit and checked for a pulse.

"I've got a pulse," said Ollie, relief washing over him, "It's faint, but it's there. Pass me a syringe gun and some morphine." George rifled round in the bag before retrieving the medical items. He injected the pain-killing morphine into the syringe and passed it to Ollie, who promptly injected it into her neck. Then, he keyed his micro-bead. "Captain Yakub, this is PFC Steele, permission to evacuate wounded?"

"Granted," replied the Captain "Get 'em out of here."

"Give us a hand George," said Ollie, as the two of them hoisted Issie onto their shoulders, with one of her arms around each of their necks.

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"Will she live, Doctor?" asked Ollie. He and George had been humbled by the experience: George's cocky exterior was gone, and Ollie couldn't think of anything clever to say.

"Thankfully, yes," said the Surgeon, "This is one lucky guardsmen. If what you have told me is true, then the refractor field must have shorted out the rail-gun round, stopping it from exploding," Ollie looked at him, bemused, "I was a mechanic before the war," explained the Surgeon. George and Ollie nodded, and left the aid station.

"Congratulations, fourth company," said a voice from the speakers, "You have passed the test."

"C'mon," said George, "We need to take a shower and fetch our dress uniforms."

"Well you need a shower," smirked Ollie "Battlefield sweat and plasma burns, not a good deodorant," And with that, the two friends left for their barracks.

**A/N: So, what do you guys think? R and R, and I'll listen.**


	3. Planetfall

**A/N: I'm back! Hope you enjoy. PLEASE read and review! For every person who doesn't review a chapter, I'll kill off a Guardsman – you have been warned!**

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+ + 001960.M41 + +

06.00 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Lunar Class Cruiser "Heart of Gold" + +

+ + Briefing Room + +

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"Congratulations," boomed Colonel Richard Sledge, known to the new men of his regiment as 'Old Sledgehammer' "You have all passed the tests required to become full-fledged Imperial Guardsmen. Because of this, it is time to unveil this:" he paused for effect, "Our regimental banner." As he spoke, a Guardsman from his command cadre stepped forward with a leather-sheathed object. When he removed the cover, the blue and gold banner, decorated with gold letters inscribed: Twelfth Armageddon Steel Legion, and with the battle honour of the Second War for Armageddon fluttered out. The room gasped in amazement at the magnificent symbol of the regiment's honour, before exploding into clapping and cheering.

"Very impressive," continued Sledge, "And it has another significance – with the presentation of this banner, you are now fully-fledged Imperial Guardsmen. The Emperor Protects – serve him well."

"The Emperor Protects," boomed back five and a half thousand, voices, before a thunderous cry of whooping, shouting and cheering erupted from the crowd. It took all of the regiment's commissars to shout down the excited soldiers.

"Thank you," said Sledge, "Now, I have been given the final details of the war zone we have been sent to, and I can now reveal the details of our destination – the forge world of Agripinaa. As he spoke, the main lights dimmed until only the aisle lights remained. Then, a three-dimensional hologram of Agripinaa sprung from the floor-mounted projector.

"This," said Sledge, "Is Agripinaa. It is a Forge World, and it produces weapons for the entire Cadian Gate. As such I cannot over-stress its tactical importance. Six weeks ago, a call was sent out by Inquisitor Aurora, of the Ordo Hereticus, that she had found a heretic cult in the under-hive of Agripinaa hive, the planetary capital. She requisitioned us, and our battle group, after she discovered the cult to be far bigger than previously expected. That was five weeks ago. Four weeks ago the Planetary Defence Force was placed on six-hour alert, and the cult began to make terrorist raids. Three weeks ago, they began their assault, not just in the capital, but in other hives too," He paused to clear his throat of the tremor of apprehension he felt, "And two weeks ago, a PDF scout spotted the corpses of his squadmates being sacrificed to their hellish gods. The heretics have summoned Chaos Space Marines." A collective gasp of horror filled the chamber.

"As such, we are to be issued with extra heavy weapons to combat this. Now, the situation is as follows: heretics have taken over Agripinaa hive, only the main spire remains – PDF elements and a force of Skitarii from the Adeptus Mechanicus guard it. The plan is this: at 0600 hours tomorrow, the 75th Beligarso Airborne will make planetfall. Their ten companies will be deploying in four areas: one company will secure the industrial sector inside the city, and one the sectors outside the city, one company will open a landing zone in the hab areas, two companies will secure the hive gate, one company will relieve the PDF barracks in the centre of the city and four companies will drop into the rear of the capital spire's besiegers. By doing this, they will secure our landing zones. At 0800, the primary force will drop. We will be ferried by the Valkyrie gunships and Sky Talon vehicle carriers of the 99th Beligarso Aviation regiment, while their Vulture gunships provide cover. We will also have support from the Navy. The 2nd Ath will land to secure the gate. The Pardus 9th Armoured and the Cadian 24th Infantry will land in the industrial sectors outside the city. The 7th and 9th Royal Volpone will secure the inner industrial sectors. The Mordian 90th and Vostroyan 35th Infantry regiments will secure the main hab sectors. The Vostroyan 9th and the Cadian 22nd Infantry regiments will relieve the PDF barracks. Finally, we will be making an armoured assault on the capital spire, accompanied by the 14th Brimlock Dragoons and the 1st New Tanith Light Infantry. The Tanith will go in first, and will use their stealth techniques to close in and weaken the enemy lines by taking out vehicles and officers. Any questions?" Captain Toron Grakk, commander of ninth company, raised his hand.

"Sir," he asked, "How can we make an armoured assault when our Chimeras might not even arrive?"

Sledge smiled.

"Captain, our men will make planetfall _inside_ their Chimeras. Valkyrie Sky Talons will carry the transports to the ground and we will assault directly after landing," A murmur of excitement echoed around the chamber – this kind of tactic was unorthodox for a reason: the Sky Talons would have to land to drop off the Chimeras, instead of their usual tactic of simply releasing the vehicle at a height of at least five metres, "Any other questions?" asked Sledge. No hands were raised, "Good. The Emperor protects the righteous: serve him well."

"The Emperor protects," replied the guardsmen.

"Dismissed," said Sledge. Company commanders and Commissars began to give orders. The men were ordered to go and collect their gear from their billets, and then report to the armoury.

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+ + 002960.M41 + +

06.00 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Lunar Class Cruiser "Heart of Gold" + +

+ + Deck 36 + +

+ + Billet E-13 + +

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The members of first squad, second platoon of fourth company stood at attention in front of their bunks. Halfway down stood George, Ollie and the still battered Issie. Their squad sergeant, Sergeant Jonathan Grakk, younger brother of Captain Grakk, stood at their head and was giving them a rousing speech.

"Men of Armageddon, I'm not going to give that flowery talk about 'The Emperor Protects'. Instead, I'm going to say this – Armageddon protects. We have faced down the Ork hordes, and prevailed. We have faced down the Commissar's lash, and prevailed. And we are going to face the horrors of the Chaos Space Marines – and we are sure as hell going to prevail. The men of Armageddon are the best in the Imperium! The Twelfth are the best men on Armageddon! Fourth company has the best men in the Twelfth Armageddon! And First Squad of Second Platoon are definitely, the best gakking soldiers in the whole of the glorious Twelfth Armageddon Steel Legion."

And from the corridor outside, you could hear the cheers.

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+ + 002950.M41 + +

06.30 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Lunar Class Cruiser "Heart of Gold" + +

+ + Deck 35 + +

+ + Armoury Delta + +

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One by one, the Steel Legionnaires collected their weapons. Each was issued with a standard M-Galaxy pattern lasgun. However, each was modified with an under-barrel grenade launcher. This would provide some much needed punch against Chaos Space Marines, and in house-to-house clearing. In addition, each squad's heavy weapons trooper was issued with a plasma gun, while platoon and company command squads were also issued with a melta gun in addition to their plasma gun. Plasma guns could slice through power armour like a knife through butter, while meltas could turn armoured vehicles into slag. Both would be devastating against cultist targets, but then, as George had stated as he saw the weapons being issued:

"Overkill is under-rated."

All geared up, the men of Fifth Company filed out. Each platoon was heavily equipped, with a command squad comprising a lieutenant in command, a vox-operator, a medic, a plasma gunner, a melta gunner and a commissar. In addition, there were five infantry squads, two special weapons squads, each of six men and armed with two plasma guns and a melta gun, and two heavy weapons squads: one armed with Lascannons, the other with Heavy Bolters.

A grand total of eighty men per platoon, and with six platoons per company, plus a command platoon of twenty men, each five hundred man company was a small army in its own right.

There were ten of them, as well as a one hundred strong stormtrooper company, two fifty man artillery companies, a tank company and a recon company. Finally there was the regiment's prized Baneblade, the regimental command vehicle. Five thousand, five hundred men waited to fall on Agripinaa, and that was just one regiment – the cultists didn't stand a chance.

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+ + 002950.M41 + +

07.45 hours (Agripinaa System local time) +

+ + Lunar Class Cruiser "Heart of Gold" + +

+ + Deck 30+ +

+ + Hangar Bay Primaris + +

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Line upon line of Valkyrie Sky Talons waited, each carrying a Chimera Armoured Personnel Carrier. The passengers of the tanks waited in formation outside. One by one, the rows of men boarded. Guardsmen closed their eyes and murmured prayers to the Emperor, clutching Aquila necklaces. The nervous young men and women had never done this before, and it was all the more terrifying that instead of being transported in the purpose-built Valkyrie Drop Ships the other regiments were using, they would be making planetfall inside reinforced cans. The order to board came, men mounted up, two Valkyries, carrying a Baneblade slung between them, moved to the front, and then, as one, all of the Sky Talon's engines built up into a roar and the craft lifted up and flew into the void.

The passengers on two Chimeras died almost instantly after they entered the vacuum, as pressure leaked from their transports, oxygen within trying to fill the vast expanse of space. Six more transports burned up in the atmosphere, their hulls unsuited to the sheer heat. And many more were killed by anti-aircraft fire as they entered the atmosphere. But after ten shaky, juddery, stuttering minutes, the men of the Twelfth Armageddon Steel Legion made planetfall onto Agrippina. It would not be a pleasant stay.

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+ + 07.45 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Agripinaa + +

+ + Mechanicus square + +

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"What are our losses, Turner?" asked Colonel Sledge. He was addressing his Adjutant, who was back in the Command Chimera, from his command pulpit aboard the Baneblade _Pax Imperator_. He had christened it that because he liked the name, but had later been informed it meant 'Emperor's Peace'. How ironic that one of the most destructive weapons at his disposal was named that.

"Hold on sir, I'm just getting the last numbers." He paused as he tallied up the numbers, "Sir," he said shakily, "We lost three hundred men in planetfall."

Sledge sighed, "Let's finish this," he said grimly. And Pax Imperator accelerated forwards, towards the enemy. Towards war.


	4. First Contact

**A/N – Sorry I haven't updated for a long time, a combination of holidays, exams and writer's block have taken their toll. Still, here it is, Chapter 4! R/R please! Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000, or Gaunt's Ghosts; I am simply a massive fan. **

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50 Chimeras, a company strength force, bounced and bounded over the rubble, dodging the occasional shell or missile. They were fourth company of the Twelfth Armageddon Steel Legion. Five hundred men were bouncing around within the mustard-coloured Chimeras, their eyes glued to the sights of the side mounted las-guns or the turret-mounted multilasers on the tanks. Occasionally, a side-mounted lasgun would let of a burst of fire at a mutant or cultist fleeing over the rubble. They were nearing the edge of the manufactories, and their rendezvous with the Beligarso pathfinders. They were just fifty yards from the cover of a manufactory building, when suddenly, anti-tank missiles, las-cannon blasts and melta guns slammed in.

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Private First Class Oliver Steele was in the turret seat of his Chimera when he saw the first blasts through the vision blocks, heard the first screams through his micro-bead.

"Everybody out," yelled Sergeant Grakk, "Get to cover." The rear doors and top hatch of the Chimera opened up, and the ten man squad leaped out, just in time to see the Chimeras carrying fourth and fifth squads, and the one carrying the heavy weapons squads, go sky high.

"Great," said Private George Helghast, "There goes our heavy support."

"Shut it, Private," replied the Sergeant "No negative cowards in _my _squad"

"Oh this is just great," said Private Joseph 'Jitters' Larken, the Squad's very nervous and jittery Sniper, "We've being dropped into a Chaos-held hive, which is full of Chaos Space Marines, and all our heavy support's gone up in a puff of smoke,"

"Oh shut the frak up!" Yelled Specialist Ben Borras, the squad surly, bullying heavy weapons trooper, "Or I'll smash you so hard, the Commissar will shoot you as a mutant." He hefted the heavy stubber in his hands, the way a regular soldier would heft a lasrifle, for good measure.

"Come on guys, are we going to stand around chatting next to a target screaming for a missile, or are we going to _get_ to those manufactories?" Private Isabelle Irone's voice of reason cut through to the men, even as they were at each other's throats, "Come on, let's go," she said. They all nodded stupidly for a second, then, in a moment of understanding, all leaped up and ran to the cover of the manufactory. "That's the way to do it," she said to herself, grinning ear-to-ear.

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Inside the manufactory, the squad joined up with their platoon, along with two more platoons. The entire squad had survived, running the gauntlet of enemy fire: Sergeant Grakk, Ollie Steele, George Helghast, Issie Irone, Ben Borras, Joe 'Jitters' Larken, Jack Drak, Dan Memmoz, as well as Archie Joran, Borras' ammunition carrier, and Matt Sorran, the squad's grenadier. Captain Yakub was there too, accompanied by his command squad and the ever-vigilant Commissar Kratz. Captain Yakub arrived speaking on the vox, but after a moment he looked up from his set.

"Alright," he said, "Third, Fifth and Sixth platoons are moving north along Factorum Avenue, the road on the far side of the factory, against heavy resistance." As if to emphasise his point, an explosive rumble echoed over to the waiting Guardsmen. "And our tanks have had to withdraw because of the enemy fire. We are on our own. We will push through this manufactory, out the other side and, if the other units are too far behind, we will attempt to complete the mission ourselves. Any questions?" He looked around at the assembled faces, a good two hundred and twenty of them, "No? Then let's go. Move in a spread formation, three columns, two-metre spread, watch your angles – you know the drill. Snipers, set scopes to heat seek. There's way too much cover in here."

Quietly as possible, the three-platoon force moved down the concourse. Heavily armoured as they were, they did make noise, as every few seconds someone knocked their rifle stock, or kicked a stone, or stumbled, or trapped their webbing on a girder. They were not stealth troopers, that was best left to the specialists.

"Hey sarge," Jack said to Sergeant Grakk, "Weren't there supposed to be stealth specialists on point or something. I'm sure it was in the briefing." Yeah," Said the Sergeant, "I wonder where they…"

"Sarge?" Asked Jack, "Why'd you stop," He looked up and realised why he'd stopped walking, or talking, as had everyone in the formation: Sergeant Grakk had the business end of a long-las in his face.

"We could've heard you a mile off," Said a rather smug-looking Sergeant, wearing a cape, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

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The company were taking a breather as Captain Yakub and the commander of the mysterious stealth troopers spoke in hushed voices as they referred to a data-slate. One of the stealthers came over to the squad as they lay back and tried to make themselves comfy in the rubble. Joe was obsessively taking apart and cleaning each part of his rifle, but the others looked up as he approached. Even so, he was very quiet, and the squad had to see him to know he was there. He was wearing black, sleeveless fatigues, grey flak armour, a black beret and a camo-cloak with an urban colouration featuring numerous shades of grey and black.

"Scout Trooper Mach Bonin," he introduced himself, "I'm named for my grandfather, the Mach is short for Macharius, as in Lord Solar Macharius," The Steel Legionaires all nodded in understanding, "I'm from the First New Tanith."

"Oh," Said Ollie "You're the spearhead force,"

"Yeah," replied Bonin, "Our regiment is made up of scout specialists, so we were given a dropzone further advanced than yours. We had to clear it ourselves. My section was left to link up with you and guide you in, while the rest of the regiment advanced." At that moment Captain Yakub walked over to the assembled force.

"On your feet kiddos," he said, "We're moving out."

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The reinforced column was soon moving again. While the bulky Steel Troopers made noise and had to go round obstacles, the Tanith silently flitted over obstacles, their cloaks almost completely obscuring them from view. George swore as his webbing snagged on a girder for the umpteenth time. Though he tugged as hard as he could, the strap wouldn't come free from the girder. Suddenly, Bonin was by his side.

"Like this," Urged the Scout, as he slid the strap off of the girder, "You've got to be more quiet," He urged, in a friendly manner, "The enemy aren't deaf, and neither am I, and you all sound like a herd of elephants. It's easy to stay silent - I'll show you," Over the next half-hour, as they marched, Bonin showed them little tricks that he had picked up. He showed them where to look so that they could see something that would make noise, but that they could still see what lay ahead. He taught them to dull down shiny parts of their equipment and uniform with smears of oil from the wrecked machinery, and he showed them how to best move concealed. The squad passed the information around, and soon most of the company were moving much more quietly. Even vox-signals were shortened to a few key phrases, and Bonin showed them a few key hand signals, which were also soon in use up and down the column, as men tested them out, though their thick, fumbling gloves made their efforts clumsy. At first, they were essentially unreadable, but they slowly improved. However, all the stealth training in the world can only protect you so much, from a sniper with armour piercing rounds and a heat-seeking scope.

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The sniper wore standard manufactory overalls, but he had removed his mask and gloves, revealing the rotted flesh underneath, so that he could better aim and handle his sniper rifle. He was one of the many members of the forge world's workforce who had turned to the dark gods. While some people had fallen to Chaos in just a few hours, swept up in the tide of warp filth that had overrun the hive, his fall had been slow. Over many months he had been coerced over to the dark gods. Teachers and parents had taught him of their evil as a child, but they had only opened his eyes. While he was taught to merely pray to the Emperor, for no obvious reward, the Chaos gods could actually give you something.

At first, he had privately prayed to Slaanesh, God of Pleasure, for help. This had given him a good girlfriend, and an addiction to their wishes. Slowly, he had given away more of himself mentally, while receiving gifts physically. He had drifted from god to god, finally winding up pleasing Slaanesh the Pleasure God, with a decadent lifestyle, Tzeentech the Changer of Ways, had received a portion of his soul, which had given a daemon new life, Khorne the Blood God had given him a stronger body, but a more aggressive temperament, and Nurgle the Plague Father was testing out a new plague: on him. He was rotting, angry, wretched and decadent. Then, one terrible morning, he had awoken to life that a year before he had dreamed for, he had looked at himself like he always did, and then, in one terrible, clarifying moment, he had realised what he had done to his body, his mind and his soul. And he had screamed. That day, the first riots had started. In the confusion, he had given in to Slaanesh. That night, his hab block – a mid spine residence he had bought with the money that he had gained after Slaanesh had possessed a bank worker long enough to transfer a million credits into his account – had become a charnel house.

He had screamed depraved battle cries as he whirled through the building, delighting in the feel of blood on his face. Finally, he had staggered out onto the street, clothes dripping in blood, and screamed his war cries again and again.

Events had moved swiftly from there, as the riots spread. At one point, a group of rioters had even managed to break into the Adeptus Arbites armoury. Soon, dozens more men were streaming in, grabbing autorifles, autopistols, stubbers and ammunition, as well as large amounts of explosives. The man however, had something else on his mind. He stole from the secure lockup an experimental sniper rifle, a combination of the accuracy and main body of a long-las, and the power and barrel of a plasma-gun. He had notched up over two hundred kills, in the three weeks since the assault had begun. Like all the hive workers, he wore a silver blast suit, similar to the suits worn by workers in areas where radiation or poisons could affect them. However, in order to better interface with his rifle's scope, he did not wear a hood, and in order to handle the rifle better, he did not wear gloves. This didn't matter, as Grandfather Nurgle's plague would probably kill him quicker – such was the life of a servant of the Dark Gods. Then, he had been hunting in a factory when suddenly, his heat scope, and the enhanced hearing gifted to him by Tzeentech, had detected at least two hundred and forty men advancing through the rubble. At once, he had sighted down the scope of his rifle and taken aim.

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Ollie heard, more than saw, the round that killed Matt. Ollie, along with George and Issie, was on point with the squad. Matt was in the back row. The plasma round slammed straight through a wall and pulverised Matt. The explosion touched of his bandolier of grenades, and the explosion pulped him, as shrapnel shredded his scorched body. Jack screamed as shrapnel tore him apart. There was a collective wince up and down the column as they watched their fiery, messy demise. There were three seconds of silence up and down the column, as shock and pain settled in. Then, came the screams.

"Get to cover," Shouted the officers. There was another explosion as a round pulverised two guardsmen from Sixth platoon and one of the Tanith. Shrapnel killed three more Steel Legionnaires. The wounded from Matt's demise, hit by shrapnel, screamed at the tops of their voices. It was an inhuman sound. The sound only someone who was in a truly bad way could make, and it sent a shiver down every one of their spines.

"They're coming right through the wall!" Shouted George.

"Two can play at that game," Replied Joe, as he powered up his sniper rifle. Using a heat scanning scope, he took aim. There was a large blob of light, and some snipers would have aimed at that. However, Joe knew that it was not the sniper's body heat, but the heat discharge from his rifle. Instead, he aimed at the lesser, almost un-noticeable heat signature. He lined up the shot, and squeezed the trigger.

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The sniper could see an officer. He knew it was an officer because his scope was registering a refractor field. He also knew that the death of a senior officer would create even more confusion. He took aim, and tightened his finger on the trigger. There was a crack, then a high-pitched whine, and for one glorious moment, he thought he'd fired. But his power pack was still full.

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George whooped as the sniper's head burst like an over-ripe melon. Joe nodded with satisfaction, opened a pouch, and recorded the kill in a notebook. He only did that with worthy foes – officers, fellow snipers, skilled infantry, those sorts of targets. The book was nearly full, as he was the only one of the squad that had previously seen action, as he had joined the Twelfth Armageddon straight out of Senior School, five years earlier. In that time, he had become an ace sniper, with hundreds of kills to his credit.

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The column was coming out of the manufactory, and into the sunlight. In front of them rose the city's Main Spine, a towering edifice nine hundred floors high – and each story could contain a nine-floor hab-block. The structure was huge, but the Main Spine of Hades Hive had been three times higher, and the two supporting hive towers had been roughly the same height. Even so, it was a breathtaking sight, a relic from the Dark Age of Technology. The peak was so high clouds obscured it. Even so, Ollie had heard of Hive Towers that could dock space ships in their uppermost levels

However, this particular tower was not in a good way. Symbols of Chaos had been drawn onto the base of the tower. At least nine levels were ablaze. It was pockmarked with craters. Tracer rounds and artillery shells were spraying back and forth between the city defences and the cultist ranks.

And standing between the Steel Legionnaires, was an army of insane cultists.

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As they emerged onto the road outside the manufactory, they at once began to scan the surroundings. Their encounter with the sniper had made them more cautious. Issie was scanning her rifle over a house when she suddenly saw – _something_. She zoomed in her rifle sights for a closer look, and saw two helmets – and the barrel of a heavy stubber.

"Get to cover," she shouted, flinging herself back just seconds before where she had been standing was torn up by rounds fired by the heavy stubber.

The entire force was pinned.

"Cover me," George said into his earpiece as he started to get up.

"Wait, what?" Asked Ollie. "If you do that the odds of survival are about a thousand to one."

"Don't," Said Issie, "I had advance warning, and it nearly killed me," George grunted that she was right.

"Will somebody please kill that gun?" Shouted Sergeant Grakk.

"With pleasure," Replied an unknown voice over the vox.

"Who-?" Began Sergeant Grakk, before two long-las rounds streaked over their heads and in through the window hiding the stubber. The gun went silent. The Steel Legionnaires emerged from cover – and so did the rest of the company of the New Tanith and the Beligarso pathfinders.

"It's good to see you," said Captain Yakub.

"The pleasure is mine," replied the Tanith leader, a hulking Captain, "Captain Dalin Kolea," he introduced.

"Likewise," said the Beligarso leader, "Lieutenant Jim Kayson, at your service."

"Look," shouted one of the Steel Legionnaires. He had been watching Factorum Avenue, and had seen what was coming; "The other platoons," and sure enough, out of the smoke came Third, Fifth and Sixth Platoons.

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The reunited company of Steel Legionnaires, along with a company of Tanith and two platoons of Beligarso pathfinders, were occupying the habs on the far side of an eight-lane highway from the Main Spine. Cultists were pouring through the gates, and more were moving on the highway.

Captain Yakub's voice came over the micro-bead earpieces each man was wearing.

"I won't pretend this won't be easy, but it must be done – the Imperium depends on us, to keep this Forge World secure, to keep the Cadian Gate secure – to keep everywhere secure," the men and women lying in cover heard him fumble with some paper – after a moment, his voice returned. He was reading one of the speeches from 'The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer'.

"For the Emperor! For Armageddon, New Tanith, Beligarso and Holy Terra. Forward!" And nine hundred men, outnumbered a hundred-to-one, charged into the pages of history, the Forlorn Hope of humanity's finest. Charging incredible odds. Years later, in face of eyewitness accounts from virtually the entire population of Hive Spire Primaris, Imperial tacticians would be forced to accept that it had really happened, and that it had not been a phantom battle as had been suspected in so many other great, but unseen charges, but truly a heroic fight – a divine miracle. The survivors of the charge offered many prayers to the Emperor from then on, truly believing that he had blessed them.

They were right.

**A/N Well, that's all folks. Not much of a cliffhanger I know, but still pretty good. R/R, and I'll listen.**


	5. The Storm Breaks

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, but I've been at school, and the homework is really slowing me up. Anyways, the end is in site! I know you're all relieved that I'm finally going to shut up! Enjoy!**

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Ollie ran along. There was smoke everywhere, and he could barely see twenty metres in front of himself. Artillery was falling, and the brief flashes illuminated the surrounding hell. He was charging through what had once been a commercia, a market where the middle-class, inner-hive traders could sell their wares. Now, it was a battleground. Old corpses from the start of the rebellion coated the ground: bloated, swollen, bloody and fly-coated, they were horrific. And there were fresh corpses too, Steel Legionnaires, with the same mustard fatigues and gasmasks as Ollie lay on the ground, red, glistening wounds shining.

He could see George, to his left and Issie to his front. George had his gun levelled, bayonet pointed. He was screaming a blood-curdling battle cry. Issie meanwhile, was crouched close to the ground. She was sliding from cover to cover, desperate to make it. He could just see the devastating wound in the front of the Hive Tower, a gaping hole with a pile of rubble leading up to it. His objective was to get inside. First and Second platoons were attacking a point to their left, Third and Fourth platoons were off to the right and Fifth and Sixth platoons, and Ollie and his friends with them, were going for the central breach. The centre was the only place where there was a guaranteed breach. At the moment, the company was moving together, but they were nearly at the point where they would split up. Then, a shell landed nearby. Even as he and his friends went flying, Ollie was reciting the specifications of the shell that had just landed.

"The Earthshaker is a 132mm gun, firing a 314kg shell over 15km at 814mph…"

* * *

><p>George's head was aching. He stood up, letting off a colourful string of curses involving the shell-firers, their extended family, and what he would do if he could lay hands on either of them.<p>

His sense of direction shot, he headed off towards the right-hand breach.

_"Gotta keep up with my platoon,"_ he thought, as he headed away from them.

* * *

><p>Issie felt dizzy and sick. She reasoned that this was a standard problem for someone that had just suffered concussion, flown through the air and landed several metres from where they had started. She thought she saw her platoon Corpsman heading over to the left flank.<p>

"I need help," she thought "It could've been a poisoned or a gas shell. It doesn't count as deserting your unit if you are getting a medic because you can't fight effectively – I think."

* * *

><p>Ollie staggered up, reeling for a moment. He looked around for a point that he could focus on, and settled on the tower. He saw the breach and started heading towards it. Then he stopped.<p>

"I should check my compass," he thought "Wouldn't want to head off in the wrong direction." He checked the compass sown into his sleeve and, satisfied, headed towards the central breach. Stooping to collect a fallen lasgun – his own having been lost, he realised – he continued on.

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Captain Yakub had his ear glued to the vox. He had received reinforcements from three other companies – Alpha, Charlie and Echo – even as his own assault went in, and he was preparing to deploy them even now. He had assumed command of the assault, and this annoyed him. The other company commanders would be leading their men into the breaches, but he would be stuck back at field HQ – a bombed-out hab – commanding via dataslate and auspex.

His six platoons were approaching the areas that were supposedly breached, the Beligarso were working their way around the back of the tower, hoping to find a point where they could get in and the Tanith were occupying sniping and heavy weapons support positions, or joining his troops in their attack.

Transmissions were flooding in, but he wasn't listening to most. From what he could hear, the situation wasn't good – shelling was confusing the assault; disoriented troops were splitting away from their units, or milling about. And there was also an unconfirmed report that the right-hand breach was not a breach, but a solid piece of wall.

"Commissar," he said to Kratz, "You should get down there. Our troops will need a firm hand to keep them together. Get over there, get them back in action, and then head over to the right. The breach might not be a breach."

"Yes sir," he said in his typical flat monotone. An Eldar shuriken to his throat nine years earlier had left him with an augmetic voice box – and a voice like gravel being crushed. Yakub nodded, preoccupied, then returned to his planning.

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Issie finally caught up with the medic, who turned out to be a platoon corpsman. His medical satchel was mainly full of painkillers and bandages, and he hadn't even been given full training. Still, he knew enough to be able to confirm that Issie was not concussed – bruised and shaken maybe, but not concussed. Only then, did Issie realise her folly. In her haste to find a medic, she had lost her squad, and that counted as desertion – enough for a Commissar to get her. Hastily, she joined a passing squad. Running up to the Sergeant, she explained her situation – that she had been wounded and lost her squad searching for a medic, so she was instead reporting to the first unit she saw. She was welcomed into the unit.

* * *

><p>Ollie was crouched behind a miraculously intact sofa in a hab overlooking the breach. He was sniping in the gap between the bottom of the couch and the floor.<p>

"Bam," he whispered, grinning, as he hit a cultist in the head with three shots from his lasrifle. The new weapon he had picked up was reliable, despite its dented appearance. The former owner had kept it in good shape. It was better than factory standards – he knew this because he had memorised those statistics – and this was impressive. There was only so much you could do with a mass-produced weapon.

He was concerned about the disappearance of his friends. He hadn't seen them since the shell blast. He had seen Kratz a few minutes earlier, and he hoped he hadn't been executing his friends – for Kratz's sake. It had been at long range, but Ollie had been confident of making the shot – five hundred metres, minor smoke obscuration, nothing he couldn't deal with. But then Kratz had ducked out of site, and the moment had passed. At that moment, a shout passed up and down the line, and crackled on Ollie's micro-bead.

"Up and at them."

He sprinted down the stairs, out of the hab-block's lobby, and charged.

* * *

><p>George was pinned. He was trapped, sheltering under a tank trap, desperate for something, anything, to let up the firestorm he had walked into. Surprisingly, he found himself <em>wishing<em> for a Commissar, even one like Kratz. They were always so – so impenetrable. So invulnerable. A divine fragment of the Emperor, inspiring them to victory. He needed that now. He had taken over a squad. They were so streaked with oil and soot that they could've been his for all he knew. But he did know something – this was not a breach. He had seen the gaping hole in the spire, at the central breach. That had been his objective – now, it was all over there. He had joined the wrong assault, and he was paying the price. The breach was nothing more than a few high-up cracks in the wall. They couldn't reach them, and even if there were a breach, they would be scythed down by the Heavy Bolters that, even now, had them pinned. The squad's vox-operator was beside him, and he asked for the speaker now.

"Command, command, this is 3-3-2, over on the right. There is no breach. Repeat, there is no breach. We need backup out here captain, ASAP!"

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Captain Yakub heard the report from second squad, third platoon and he realised that all his fears were confirmed. He tried to get on the vox to the regimental armoured company, but there was only static. He tried to get regimental command, but again there was only static. He tried all the assets he might have. Eventually, he tried one last thing.

"Lieutenant Kayson, tell me you've got something up your jump-trooper sleeve."

"I've got just the thing. Prepare for a show, Colossus style!"

* * *

><p>"Hey little bro," Lieutenant Jim Kayson voxed to Mike Kayson, his younger brother, "The ground-pounders got themselves in a pretty sweet fix. Can you do anything?"<p>

"Sure can," Mike Kayson grinned, "Colossus squadron, packing Hellstrikes and inbound!"

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George shielded his eyes as six Vulture gunships, painted in the colours of the Beligarso 99th, screamed in and unloaded Hellstrike missiles and Lascannon blasts onto the breach. There was a bright sheet of flame, a scream of tortured metal, a roar of collapsing masonry and the gleeful silence from the heavy weapons positions on the wall and around the bottom of the breach. There was silence. Then a voice on his microbead stated:

"Enjoy the show, ground-pounders? Get back on your feet and get in there! Hellstrikes don't come cheap you know." George, knowing a good thing when he saw it, practically screamed the command.

"Charge!"

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+ + 08.36 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Agripinaa + +

+ + Top-249, Main Spine + +

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Issie's unit had cleared the breach without much resistance. It was mystifying. The other breaches were reporting huge numbers of hostiles. They were pinned down by huge numbers of guns. So why hadn't she been attacked yet? The two platoons were going parallel along two streets and were clearing hab-blocks, two at a time. Two Infantry squads would enter each hab-block, accompanied by a special weapons squad, and sweep up, floor by floor, to dislodge any resistance. Lascannon teams were watching the street, along with the remaining Infantry squad and a single Heavy Bolter. The other two Heavy Bolters were each assigned to watch one of the doorways, in case of stragglers trying to break out.

Issie swept her lasgun across the hab-block. It was a typical family residence – a double bed set in a curtained alcove, a stove, a washbasin with chemical toilet and a door to the adjoining room for the children.

"Cover me," she signalled, and another trooper slid into the room and focused his lasgun on the door. Issie edged around the room, sticking to the sides so as not to block her squad mate's line of fire. Treading softly, she reached the door. The guardsman, still focused on the door, moved over so as to cover the door when it was opened. Her fingers curled around the handle, and she pulled, flinging the door open and swinging inside.

The site she saw nearly made her vomit. A horrific symbol of Chaos had been daubed in blood on the walls – and the family had been nailed to it.

Issie made the sign of the Aquila at this. The other guardsmen came into the room, saw this horror, and wrenched off his gasmask, running to basin before heaving up his rations into the basin. Thus recovered, he walked forward grimly and removed the nails, lowering the corpses to the floor. The symbol would have to stay though. He went over to alcove to fetch the curtain, in order to cover the bodies. Suddenly, Issie realised something.

"No, wait!" she screamed. The curtain was shut. Something was hiding.

The guardsman was ripped apart by the claws of something inside the curtain. Issie watched, transfixed, as blood stained his shirt red. She realised she would never know his name. Then all this was wiped from his mind as a very angry clawed mutant leaped out of the alcove.

"Oh sh…"

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+ + 08.36 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Agripinaa + +

+ + Outside Main Spine + +

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Ollie was at the bottom of the rubble pile. Rounds were streaking about him as he killed a cultist charging at him with three las-bolts to the face.

He was sprinting up the pile. Screaming, he bayoneted a wounded cultist in the rubble, its' face shredded by shrapnel.

He was in the mouth. Flame-troopers were sweeping the breach, weapon nozzles sweeping, while Ollie joined the other Guardsmen in pouring full-auto fire into the bezerk, charging heretics.

And then they were through, tearing through the breaking ranks of cultists. They were wearing the silver rad-suits that they would, in another life, have worn on the production lines of their planet's factories.

He smashed bodily into a cultist, and the two of them fell wrestling to the ground. Rolling over repeatedly Ollie managed to swing his lasgun enough the stock knocked into the cultist, making it roll off. He shot it. The round blew off its' helmet. Then, he really screamed. 'It' was a she. A woman – who in any other place – would've been attractive. But she was horrific. He had been told that Chaos had a god of pleasure, and that this god had taken the cultists here.

And he believed it. He really did. This woman was eye-achingly attractive. It was pleasurable merely to look upon her

Ollie screamed. And then stabbed. Again and again, raising his bayonet above his head, he stabbed down, reducing the cultists amazing features to a bloody pulp. He wept as he did this.

Wept that this face was so amazing. Wept that he had come so close to the embrace of Chaos.

Wept that the face he truly loved could well be dead.

* * *

><p>George sprinted over the rubble, eager to stretch his legs after the long time in hiding. A force the size of an over-strength platoon followed him. The most senior surviving officer was a Sergeant Major – all other officers being dead or wounded – and he had wordlessly handed over to George when he charged. Now, George was at the forefront of the assault, leading them on. He encouraged them on, leading by example and doing everything they had to do. He was nothing like some officers, who sat back and were content to just order their troops around, not caring about them. He was like his own image of a Commissar from before: invulnerable, a part of the Emperor, a divine Prophet of their god.<p>

"For the Emperor!" he cried.

A few cultists had survived the blast, and the subsequent landslide, and now they were popping up. George bayoneted one who had suddenly stopped playing dead, even though George was barely two metres away. He shot through the head a screaming cultist who was lying pinned under a huge chunk of reinforced concrete from the tower. Just because they were heretics, didn't mean they were undeserving of mercy. A heretic popped up just behind him, to his left. His eyes widened as it raised its' knife to strike.

The blow never came. Instead, there was a high-pitched whine and a long-las round blew out its' head.

"Thanks, Tanith," he said into his micro-bead.

"No fething problem," the sniper replied sarcastically.

.

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+ + Top-249, Main Spine + +

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Issie screamed and held down the trigger of her lasgun, mashing the trigger. Rounds spurted out, only to glance off the mutant's glistening hide. It had shining, glistening, horrifying skin, four arms, each ending in six wickedly long claws, a crab-like maw and a single darting eye in the centre of its' forehead. It lunged towards her and she rolled away, desperately searching for an advantage. She cried out, praying that her squadmates would hear her. She scrabbled across the floor as the mutant swept its' arm at her.

There was a 'whoosh' of air, a burning heat, the smell of cooked meat – and the blow never came. A Guardsman wielding a flamer had smashed into the room not a second to soon, and cooked the mutant. He helped Issie to her feet, and nodded, then walked off without another word.

"We call him 'Chatterbox,'" said the squad Sergeant, as she re-entered the passageway "He lost his family in the last war, and he hasn't spoken since. He's a devil of a fighter though."

"Yeah…" thought Issie, preoccupied.

"Let's move!" shouted the Sergeant, and the squad headed up. The hab-block was strange – it seemed to keep climbing. Issie knew that the next level, Top 250, was the first of the tower's uppermost levels. Two hundred and fifty floors were below it, and two hundred and fifty floors were above it. She climbed the last flight of stairs to the hatch, and opened it, poking her head out.

She felt the muzzle of a bolt pistol against her skull.

"Just who the drak are you?" said a voice.

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Ollie was smashing through the streets of level Top-490. He was using power packs taken from corpses to power his dented, bloodstained rifle. All around him, guardsmen were shooting, stabbing punching and kicking. Mayhem surrounded him. Slicing through the enemy, he punched out of the far side of their lines, only to see yet more enemies. But these foes were facing inwards, away from him. Charging forward, gun blazing, he sliced a path through them with more soldiers supporting him, and he reached the other side. In front of him was a sandbag barricade, with a platoon of PDF troopers in sky-blue uniforms manning it. They had three Heavy Bolters, and were carving away the enemy line with them.

He leaped over the barricade, and joined the firing with glee. After a few moments, the cultist attack was driven back, and there was wild jubilation. PDFers and Guardsmen alike hugged each other like lost brothers, overjoyed at this first linkup. Ollie was reported this to Captain Yakub, before turning to the commander of the PDF troopers.

"Greetings," said Ollie, "I'm PFC Oliver Steele, 12th Armageddon Steel Legion."

"Excellent," replied a lieutenant. He looked no older than eighteen or nineteen. "Welcome to Agripinaa. Or what's left of it."

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Issie and her comrades were noticeably subdued, compared to the jubilant PDFers. After going through the hatch she had come up in a PDF roadblock. The officer who had stopped her had been a Commissar keeping watch over the scared troopers. Issie was restless to be going, but her sergeant was detained, talking to the area commander, asking for a sitrep.

Finally, he returned.

"Well?" someone asked.

"Everything from Mid-50 down is in the hands of the enemy. The rest is heavily contested. Our boys are carving it out a street at a time, but they just rush back into every cleared area. And the area from Top-495 to Top-500 is occupied. The planetary governor went mad, declared his allegiance to the heretics. We've got a warband of Traitor Space Marines up there, and we have to carve our way in." there was silence.

Then Issie hefted her rifle.

"Well then, we'd best get moving," the Sergeant nodded. They cheered.

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George was sprinting towards the cultist position around the main lift shaft. A Hellhound Flame tank near to him doused a building in fire, adding to the already building inferno. Up ahead was a barricade. He was on Level Top-495. Even though this area was technically under Imperial control, the heretics were heavily contesting it.

He vaulted over a barricade and fired into a heretic. It was cut down by three bolts from his lasgun. He turned and fired at another cultist, this one pulling out an autopistol, but the pack clicked dry. He swore, and flung down his lasgun – he had long since run out of spare ammunition.

Drawing his knife, he ran the cultist through, turned – and felt a sharp pain in his chest.

A cultist stood before him, his hair a shock of bright green. He wore bright pink robes, and had a grin of ecstasy on his face.

And a rusty knife in his hand.

George fell to the floor…

**A/N – Wooh, cliffhanger! Seriously though, I am SO sorry that I haven't updated in so long. Basically, I haven't been able to buckle down and do some serious writing. So this story is on temporary hiatus.**

**Still, I've learnt a lot from this. Namely, write a story BEFORE you publish it. That's going to be my policy from now on.**


	6. Endgame

**A/N: Here it is! The last chapter but one. It's insane that it's taken this long, but I haven't given up. Oh well. Once more unto the breach…**

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Issie jogged through the inferno that had once been an up-hive boulevard. A shell smashed in, and detonated in a glassmaker's shop three doors down. The squad ahead was torn apart, half dead, the rest wounded. They jogged on.

Their objective was the central lift shaft. It was the only uninterrupted way up to main spine, and all Guard units were converging there. She hoped to be reunited with her friends. They rounded the corner, even as another platoon converged on the position from the opposite direction. Armageddon, Tanith and Beligarso troopers all converged.

The lift doors opened.

A monster, a titan, a primal beast from the dawn of time cackled manically – and opened fire. The pink armoured warrior's boltgun spat fiery death unto all who stood before him. Guardsmen were slaughtered. He targeted officers, sergeants, and special weapons troopers.

Issie watched as the plasma gunner of her adopted squad was decapitated by a neck shot. The man collapsed. All around, men were dying in droves. She was hidden from view by a barricade, all reason told her to stay put.

A figure fell across her field of vision. A rusty, blood-encrusted knife protruded from his abdomen. She suddenly realised who it was. Her countenance darkened. All reason left her. She wanted vengeance. She roared a cry of anger and rolled from cover, and, in one swift motion, grabbed the plasma gun, swept it up, and while the Chaos Space Marine's attention was diverted, she fired.

The first plasma round burned through his armour, injuring him. The second shot finished him off. The huge carcass swayed, and then fell to the floor, crushing a pair of cultists under its' power armoured bulk.

She was breathing heavily. Silence descended on the boulevard. Then the Guardsmen stood up and began the usual sequence following a firefight: namely screaming 'Medic' as loud as possible until said healer appeared.

"Issie!" cried a voice, and Issie looked up in time to be engulfed in Ollie's bear hug "You're ok! I was worried! I thought you were dead! I – George!" this last comment was dictated to the unconscious form of his friend. They crouched beside him.

"Medic," the cry went up, and the soldier ran over. He removed the knife, applied some antiseptics and a bandage, and gave him some adrenal stimulants. George shot up, breathing heavily, before he collapsed back down. He shook his head.

"Man that's strong stuff!" he gasped.

"It was a double dose," replied the medic "Should be enough to get you down to triage on Mid-150. It's an old hospital. You can't miss it," he said, even as he helped George to his feet.

"I'll take him," offered Issie, even as she slung his arm over her shoulder, and her arm over his shoulder.

"Good luck," said Ollie. He looked around, noticing the lack of officers "I'll lead the remaining troops up to the top."

"Good luck. May the Emperor be with you," replied Issie. Then she did something quite unexpected. She kissed him on the cheek "See you soon," she said, before half supporting, half carrying George's wounded form away.

"Wow," said Ollie "Wow."

"Your orders, sir?" asked a trooper.

"Follow me." Ollie replied.

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+ + 08.45 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +

+ + Agripinaa + +

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There were half a dozen lift shafts, and each was packed with Guardsmen. Each could hold two squads; so over one hundred men were preparing to meet the heretics. The levels counted off in Ollie's head.

"_496…497…498…499…" _The lift ground to a halt.

"What's going on?" someone asked.

"Level 500 is closed to lifts. Manual access via stairwells is necessary. Thankyou." The voice of the hive's AI seemed to issue from the very walls. Ollie reached forward and opened the door. On the far side, in the vast lobby, thirty Chaos Space Marines stood, weapons raised.

Their leader grinned.

"Duck and cover!" cried Ollie, rolling down even as bolt shells scythed down the fist rank of waiting men. Some men scattered out of the other lifts. They rolled into cover. Nobody could move. All around was Chaos. Bolt shells and las-fire streaked across the atrium. A huge man, one of the Tanith, hefted a missile launcher over the pot-plant he was using as cover, shouted 'Ease', and launched a frag missile straight down the concourse, killing one Chaos Marine, and wounding two. They simply screamed in pleasure, and redoubled their efforts. A pair of snipers each took a kill, before one of them was himself sniped. One Guardsmen, a hulking brute of a man, picked up a Heavy Bolter and began to sweep the normally tripod-mounted weapon back and forth. He brought down a half-dozen foes before he was felled.

Ollie covered his ears a dreadful, nerve-wrenching, mind-numbing howling pierced the air. A purple beam of light had scythed into one of the lifts, knocking it out of action. A piercing ringing filled his ears. He could see flashes of gunfire, men rolling on the ground, soundlessly screaming, their hands clasped to their ears, blood running down. The one man's head exploded from the sheer pressure of the sound, and all noise returned in a screaming rush.

They were at an impasse. Barely fifty Guardsmen remained, against some twenty-five Emperor's Children.

"Alert! Alert! Hostile contact, Level-499! Send reinforcements!" Ollie yelled down his micro-bead over the screaming sounds of battle. A moment later the lifts opened, disgorging more Guardsmen. A plasma gunner sprinted towards Ollie's position. Even as the man leaped into cover, a bolt shell removed his arm. His lifeblood sprayed over Ollie, but there was nothing he could do. Ollie quietly removed the man's dog tags. He hefted the fallen plasma gun, and grinned.

His first and second shots killed a sergeant leading a group of them. His third brought down one who'd already been wounded by a frag missile. As he fired off a fourth, bringing down a bareheaded warrior, return fire forced him into cover. He swore as the hot plasma gun burnt his fingers. However, this distraction allowed others to open fire.

One by one the traitor Astartes fell, until finally, the last set of defiled Power Armour clattered to the ground, and was still.

A heavy silence filled the chamber. Slowly, special weapons troopers leading, the Guardsmen left cover and began to make their way up the atrium.

After ascertaining that the Traitor Astartes were well and truly dead – via a melta shot to each of them – Ollie called over a vox operator.

"Captain Yakub?"

"PFC Steele."

"I'm leading the speartip of our forces. We're on floor 499."

" I know. We're picking up on your signal."

"Can you send reinforcements?"

"Negative at the moment. We're having a hard time just keeping the Cultists suppressed. How many are you?" Ollie looked around at the Guardsmen. Despite reinforcements from the lift, their numbers were pitifully few.

"Barely one hundred."

"Roger that. Move up. We'll have help moving up soon." Ollie cut the link.

"Come on," he smiled, and hefted his lasgun "Let's finish this."

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They swung up the stairwell with clean efficiency. Already, they were acting like veterans. They had had to adapt quickly. The alternative was death.

Sickening symbols of the heretical Gods of Chaos adorned the walls, pink runes showing the intertwined symbols of male and female daubed on in a frantic manner. They made Ollie sick to see them. 'Jitters' Larken, who was somehow still with Ollie, was especially scared.

"What's wrong Joe?" Ollie asked.

"It's…it's just…I…" he stammered.

"What's wrong?"

"Back when I had first joined the Guard, I was engaged to one of my squad mates. We were out on patrol, during the Battle of Hades Hive, and I was really confident that we'd be safe, but she had a bad feeling. She was really jittery. We were just turning for home. I'd reassured her that everything was fine. And then…well, an Ork Kommando just came out of nowhere. He had a flamer, and she was incinerated in seconds." There were tears in his eyes.

"Sorry, man, really, I am."

"It's fine. I feel better for having told someone."

Ollie realised that he had reached the top of the stairs. He pushed open the door, and entered an entry hall. He passed through and reached the spacious waiting gallery of House Davo, Imperial rulers of Agripinaa. Here, more than most, there were symbols of the Archenemy. A permeating, cloying sickly-sweet smell drifted out from the main chamber of the top-Spine penthouse. They advanced cautiously, entering the main chamber with military precision, completely unprepared for what lay within.

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A tall, pink-skinned creature filled the bulk of the room.

"Ssso, more of you humansss to join me. The Feast of Excessss was about to ssstart. Ssso glad you could join me," it ran its' tongue along its' lips, and continued in its' snake-like voice "Or perhapsss, that wasss not your intent." The Keeper of Secrets raised itself to its' full height.

"Oh gak!" Ollie screamed into the vox, as the mere mortals around him trembled at the sight of the immortal daemon "Daemon! Daemon!"

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"Oh gak! Daemon! Daemon!" The message crackled across George's microbead. They were on Top-493. All the lifts except for those on the top five levels were out of action, and it was slow going for the wounded George and tired Issie.

"We've got to help him," urged George.

"How? You're injured. We should get you to the field station. We'd just get in the way otherwise."

"We have to do something. He's our friend. And I don't think brains will save him from a daemon." She sighed.

"What do you have in mind?"

.

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Ollie stumbled backwards, and clicked his lasgun to full auto. A full clip of lasrounds hit the creature, but it shrugged them off like they were little more than a shower of rain. Ollie swore constantly as he scrambled backwards along the floor. A mass retreat towards the stairs was in the process. Scrambling to his feet, he fled past two missile launcher teams, who were firing frag missiles. He didn't need to see to know what happened to them when a moment later he heard their screams. The daemonblade that the beast wielded was a terrible weapon.

Ollie crashed through the door and onto the stairwell. The daemon simply went through the wall. He tried to combat roll down the staircase, but he simply fell. The daemon descended in a single bound, but Ollie was already through the door. In the atrium on 499, a platoon was in firing positions. A young lieutenant led them.

"You do know what's coming through that door right?" Ollie asked.

"Yes."

"And yet you're still here."

"Yes. We'll buy you some time."

"Good luck." And then Ollie continued on. He and his strike force moved down in the lifts, and began to set up once more. Above, the sounds of gunfire opened up. He knew that that young lieutenant had sacrificed the lives of him and his men to buy a few minutes to set up another line. The sounds of firing diminished. Screams drifted down. Then came the silence.

Then came the banging.

All down the lift shaft, something seemed to be banging on the insides. It grew closer and louder, dents appeared in the lift shaft, which was visible to the very top of the spire through the glass roof. It stopped.

The daemon smashed through the lift shaft and onto the Guardsmen in a flurry of wings, claws and horns. It rolled along the ground, crushing men, before swinging up and bringing its' sword around. Everyone was firing, but nobody was hurting it. Only their special weapons could hurt it, but the bearers were falling faster than they could bring their weapons to bear.

A swiping wing threw Ollie to the ground. It spun on him. He was the last of his men left. It advanced, and raised its' sword. Ollie closed his eyes, and dreamed of home, his family, his friends…

A heat wave washed over him. He opened his eyes. The daemon was swaying slightly. There was discharge in the air, which he recognised as similar to that of melta discharge.

Daemons are powerful creatures. They have psychic shields that can protect them from harm, and battle prowess honed from thousands of years of war.

But nothing, not even a Titan, can stop a melta blast at point blank range. And this blast in particular had neatly bisected the daemon. Its' two halves clattered to the ground.

Ollie looked around. One man stood, Meltagun in hand, supported by a woman.

"What?" asked George "Couldn't let you have all the fun could I." Ollie smiled, and then smirked and then he began to laugh, a mixture of joy and relief and excitement, and, probably, adrenaline. And they all laughed too.

Except the daemon. He was very, very dead.

A cacophony of sound began to wash up from the lower levels of the hive. The shrill wail echoed up.

It was the sound of a hundred thousand cultists screaming in horror.


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: Here it is. The final chapter. I'm sorry this took so long, but I've been locked out of my account for about six months. I'd like to thank all my readers, for putting up with me, all my reviewers, for providing constructive criticism, and Pixo for letting me use the Ath and Beligarso, regiments that he created. And then wrote about in a suitably badass fashion. Check 'em out.**

**One last disclaimer: I don't own Warhammer 40k: that great honour belongs to Games Workshop.**

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Peace came swiftly to Agripinaa, as swiftly as war had done. With the death of the Daemon Angril Silvertongue, the cultists had quickly surrendered. Now, a week later, Ordo Malleus ships had arrived and begun the clear up. An Inquisitor had cordoned off the top chambers, which were cleansed with fire.

But the cost was high. Ten thousand Imperials died. There were one thousand, five hundred and seventy five casualties from the Twelfth Armageddon alone.

Ollie, Issie and the – now recovered – George were resting near the temporary HQ set up in the former PDF building when Colonel Sledge appeared. He quickly came to attention.

"Sir."

PFC Steele. Captain Yakub tells me you handled yourself well in he assault. You even led the assault on the daemon's chambers."

"I only did my duty as a soldier of the Imperium and a man of Armageddon, sir."

"Well, you did well. I need a new commander for Alpha Company. Their Captain was killed by a sniper in the main assault."

"And you want me to take over?"

"Yes."

A grin split Ollie's face.

"Can I appoint my own officers?"

"Done, Captain Steele. Your new company is billeted in the old PDF Barracks Alpha-13."

Colonel Sledge left.

"Well Captain," said George "Congratulations."

"You too Lieutenant Helghast."

"Lieutenant?"

"You deserve it. I'll give you a platoon when we meet the company. As for you Issie, I need an adjutant."

"Thanks," she said, and kissed him on the lips. Shortly after the final battle, they'd gotten together.

He looked at his friends once more, and allowed himself a rare luxury for a man of Armageddon: he smiled. Life was good.

**A/N: Well, its' all over. Hope you enjoyed it! **


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